


cannibal demons

by Grand_Phoenix



Series: Warcraft Drabbles, Short Stories, and Other Such Things [42]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: 'what could go wrong?!' says the big bad of the expansion, Drabble, Introspection, Missing Scene, Moral Ambiguity, Short One Shot, World of Warcraft: Shadowlands Spoilers, maybe idk I never got access to the beta lol, no sir there's nothing wrong with throwing a dead body into the Maw, nothing of consequence will occur your honor I swear it, the Jailer's that little devil on Devos's shoulder going 'hey go fuck shit up!', what's the worst that could happen?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grand_Phoenix/pseuds/Grand_Phoenix
Summary: Believe what you want to believe. In the end, it's all the same bullshit. [Uther and Devos, above the Maw][pre-Shadowlands era]
Relationships: Uther the Lightbringer & Devos
Series: Warcraft Drabbles, Short Stories, and Other Such Things [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/971712
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	cannibal demons

In the moment it takes for Uther to loosen his grip on the agent’s throat and let his body tumble into the abyss, Devos almost considers reminding him of all the suffering that had been wrought with the power of the Maw and in the title of the dark master whose name was purged from the Shadowlands eons ago. That man had once been his student, his prince, a son he could call his own...but that was all he had been, and all that he was, until the day he took up that accursed sword and kicked off a campaign of cruelty and bloodshed that caused a kingdom to fall and its ruler—the bastard’s own father—to be the first of countless casualties the blade would taste.

Who would find forgiveness in any of that?

_No one,_ Devos thinks, wings twitching irritably. _No one should._

You _shouldn’t, Uther._

_Remember what he did to you,_ she had said to him. _Remember, and claim your vengeance._ For what else could it be? Justice was Revendreth’s station; it’s their sacred duty to be impartial, rehabilitate, and determine where those stubborn souls would go next.

(Did it?)

Where those souls went was never really for her to question. Perhaps they would join the ranks of the venthyr to continue the cycle, or maybe they proved too evil and were sent to the Maw to languish for eternity. Perhaps they would return to the Arbiter to be judged properly and delivered to Ardenweald to sleep and be reborn back into the world of the living, or join the Night Fae and profligate the cycle of nature and nurture. Maybe they would even go to Maldraxxus and pledge their loyalty to one of its five Houses—endlessly fighting, endlessly waking, as if they had never died at all.

(Like cogs in the wheel: spin, spin, spin, spin, spin.)

Perhaps these souls would be pressed into joining the Kyrian Covenant, and ascend as she did, following the Path set before them, the Purpose ascribed to all.

To forget everything they would know.

To be free.

(Of _sin_.)

Uther lets go—but not before correcting her. This isn’t vengeance he’s committing; this is _justice_. You needn’t a jury to conclude that there is no such justification to be found in genocide whatsoever.

So they watch the agent, a king only to himself, fall into the Maw, where the only sound to be heard in this forsaken region of the Shadowlands is the black anima that slowly churns in a whirlpool like the eye of a storm. Face slack, arms dragged forward by gravity to reach out, he almost looks as if he’s flying.

At _peace_.

The air goes out of Devos’s lungs. Her wings cease their spasms and catch the thermal updraft, keeping her aloft.

_There could be others,_ she realizes. Then: _No. There_ are _others—just like Uther...and him._

“It’s over,” Uther breathes, and if there is a tone of relief and smug satisfaction intertwined in there, she doesn’t notice. He turns to her with a face that’s tired and older than he’s supposed to be, yet he holds himself tall. His shoulders set straight, wings held rigid at their full length. Poised like that, in the golden armor of the Ascended, Uther the Lightbringer paints the perfect picture of a king rising up from his knees to stand before his people on the day of his coronation. “What now?”

Ah, yes.

That.

“I...don’t know,” Devos begins tentatively. “But the Path...we cannot go back to it. Not as we did before. The Archon will know of what has transpired soon enough.”

“Were it not for you, Devos, I would still be struggling in Bastion, unable to let go, unable to take action.” Uther places a hand over his breast, where the wound the sword inflicted upon him lingers underneath, and a frown mars his lips in the same manner it stirs the cockles of her heart something fierce. “For that, I will be forever grateful unto you. But it is as you say; our welcome will not be met so kindly. What do you suggest we do?”

Devos bites her lip, chews on the inside of her cheek.

Thenios will know. They all will.

_But not everyone will agree,_ she muses. _Not everyone will want to forget._

Devos turns around, toward the way they had come out of the soul stream. “We’re going back,” she says, tentatively. Then, more confidently, “We’re going back,” she repeats, sensing Uther’s protest, “and we’re going to find them.”

“Them?”

“Others like you, Uther, who have been wounded by the magic your student wielded—and who have yet to be purged of their memories. It takes eons before they are ready to partake the trial of ascension, but once in a while there will be an aspirant who hesitates to let go, or refuses. Such despair drives them to madness. They become Forsworn.”

“Forsworn….”

“Yes, and when that happens they...for the good of Bastion, they must be stopped. Before doubt spreads like a disease and is uncontainable.”

“Not yet,” Uther murmurs. “We can find them. Perhaps even save them, and give them their hearts’ desires.”

“Yes,” Devos agrees. “We will do what the Archon will not.”

“But how? We are but two kyrians. How will we be able to convince those that are in need of our aid, against a society that dares not be led astray from their Path?”

Devos pauses.

_Yes...how? How am I going to show the Archon—everyone—that they’re wrong? That the Path is flawed and the Purpose fallible? We don’t have the power to open their eyes and make them see. What would it take for us to make that happen?_

The Maw trundles beneath them—vast, calm, unknown. Lightning flickers between the strands of anima and a low rumble of thunder that is quiet as to be on the edge of hearing. It drowns out the air circulating their wings.

_Take what is yours,_ the thought rises suddenly, unbidden, and it takes all of Devos’s willpower not to let her surprise show. A sliver of it must, though, as Uther’s brows knit together with concern. She thinks she hears him say her name, ask her what’s wrong.

_Go back. Listen to your heart._

_Listen to_ me _._

“Devos?” Uther asks again.

“We’re going to do the right thing,” Devos speaks up, unfazed, the words coming to her easily and readily. “We will have the power to see our plan come to fruition and see it through. I promise you this, Uther, we will change Bastion for the better. One way or another, we will make things right.”

Uther nods. “Of course, Devos. What you do, I shall follow.”

**Author's Note:**

> Be me, after watching _Afterlives: Bastion_ : I'm going to write a ficlet based off this! Everything else on the backlog can wait a few hours!
> 
> (About a month later.)
> 
> So, uh, better late than never, I suppose lol :V
> 
> I really did enjoy the Bastion short; it's a contender with the _Bioshock_ vibes Revendreth oozed with (and I'm probably going to love Sire Denathrius the same way I hold Lei Shen in regards as the best villain in WoW), while Maldraxxus was more of an obvious lead-up to its Covenant campaign and Ardenweald...was enjoyable, but as someone that prefers hunters over druids it didn't make me feel much at all in regards to what happens to Ursoc (and apparently some people called Ara'lon a 'dirty oathbreaker' for...making a tough decision in the middle of a crisis? What?). Still, Arthas is an integral character to the WoW mythos, and although I'm biased towards Sylvanas and find the idea of people fervently banking on the possibility of Arthas coming back to somehow earn a redemption arc by killing her (even though, regardless of his actions leading up to claiming Frostmourne, he's responsible for her, you know, being a shithead in the first place...? Huh?) I cannot deny the lasting impact he has left on the story as well as the playerbase. Despite my general indifference towards him and the majority of the cast, I am, however, of the stance that every action taken post-Frostmourne were not of his own accord. But I think that's something I'll touch on more depending on how much screentime Blizzard gives Arthas in _Shadowlands_.
> 
> \- Seeing as I don't have access to the SL beta, and given what I've seen of events post-Bastion in the Spires of Ascension (to keep this relatively spoiler-free), I'm pretty sure this _isn't_ how things are supposed to go down between Uther and Devos after the short. But it's something, and since we don't really get a sense as to how much time passes between the moment they retrieve Arthas from the Frozen Throne (and unless canon states otherwise I'm convinced the short is implying very heavily it's his _body_ , which would give an answer as to what happened to it post-WotLK) and the moment Uther drops him into the Maw, I'm inclined to believe not much time has passed, although perhaps the notion that time in the Shadowlands operates differently than on Azeroth/Draenor/Outland would have it on the contrary.


End file.
